The January Conspiracy
by Dragon Silhouette
Summary: It all started when Isshin Kurosaki was found stabbing his fukutaichou...


**Hi. So. I've been working on the plot for this story for a few weeks now, and I've edited this one chapter dozens of times over the course of two weeks. Don't be surprised if the other chapters I post later on aren't as good. I should probably be working on my other stories, but... You know how it is (or not). A plot bunny appears out of nowhere and you can't get it out of your head until it's written down on something solid.  
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**There will be thirty-one chapters -one for each day of January (hence, The January Conspiracy). It's not an original title, I know. The chapters will vary in length. Some might be as short as a drabble, others as long as having ten thousand words. EDIT: Virtual cookies for anyone who guesses the culprit. ALSO, the ranks of certain shinigami might not fit the canon (ex. Renji is a fukutaichou), but please, just go with it. **_**  
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**Another thing: Beta needed for this story. Someone who won't mind my sporadic updates.  
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**Disclaimer: Bleach isn't mine.**

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_**-January 1**__**st**__**-**_

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"_Don't place too much confidence in the man who boasts of being as honest as the day is long. Wait till you meet him at night."_

_-Robert C. Edwards-_

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_11:32 pm_

An inebriated Rangiku Matsumoto waved an empty bottle in the air. "Yeah, 'nother round, please ~"

The skinny bartender behind the counter sweated nervously. He was almost out of sake, and there were still seven high-ranking shinigami waiting to be served another batch of alcohol. He passed her another bottle and watched as she and Shunsui Kyouraku take a big swig and crash their bottles on the wooden table.

"Who did I bet on again?" Ikkaku Madarame slurred.

"Kyouraku," Shuuhei Hisagi answered. He reached for his sake, but knocked it over instead. The precious liquid spilled out and stained the table dark brown. "No!"

"How unbeautiful," Yumichika Ayasegawa commented. He was the most sober shinigami in the group, daintily holding a cup in his right hand and taking small sips every ten minutes.

Izuru Kira shook his own glass and watched with fascination as the liquor swirled around in a miniature whirlpool. "Pretty..."

"Yes, I am."

"He wasn't talking to you, Yumichika," Renji Abarai grunted. Sometime during the night, he lost his bandana, revealing his tattoos to everyone in the bar (not that anyone cared).

_Thump!_

The five men turned to the drinking competition and found Rangiku face-down on the table. She snorted inelegantly, and let her half-empty bottle of sake shatter on the floor.

Shunsui was grinning like the Chesire cat in that Alice in Wonderland story they heard about. "I win." He immediately slumped in his chair and let out a great, big snore.

Yumichika wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Pigs."

"Better not let Rangiku hear that," Ikkaku said.

Renji rolled his eyes. "Alright, I think we're done here." He placed some money on the bartender's counter and heaved the taichou on his shoulder, stumbling a bit from the weight. "Nanao will kill us if we don't bring him back before tomorrow."

"Dear, sweet Nanao..." Shunsui drawled happily in his slumber.

Ikkaku, looking flushed, poked Shuuhei. "... The hell is Nanao?"

The Ninth Division's fukutaichou muttered something under his breath, and staggered to his feet. "Eh... His wifey?"

Yumichika helped an unsteady Izuru to his feet, then proceeded to carry Rangiku on his shoulder. "Nanao Ise is his fukutaichou."

"Yes, taichou," Rangiku muttered.

"Hm?"

Yumichika opened the door and ushered everyone out. He thanked the bartender –complimenting the beautifully-done painting on the wall and insulting his too-big nose–and left.

The group was heading for the Eighth Division, but Yumichika insisted that they should go drop off Rangiku first. His uniform was beginning to crease un-beautifully, and he didn't want the weight on his shoulders to make it look even uglier. They turned around and started for the Tenth Division. Halfway there, Rangiku stirred, startling Yumichika enough to drop her on the cold, hard ground.

"OW!" Rangiku gave Yumichika an evil, bloodshot eye.

"Oops," he said plainly. "You can walk, right? And please stop glaring at me. It's very unbeautiful."

She stood up and dusted her black hakama. "Yeah, no thanks to you." She steadied herself against a wall.

"He carried you half-way to your division," Renji whispered to her. His breath stank of sake, but she was pretty sure that hers smelled worse.

"Gasp," she said sarcastically. "Yumichika doing _manual labour_."

Said shinigami didn't dignify that with a response. He flipped his black hair and smoothed his uniform.

"We're going now," Ikkaku grumbled. "You can walk back on your own. I can't carry Kyouraku-taichou much longer... I think he's drooling on me." He shuddered.

"No!" she cried out. "Stay! I have something that can wake him up _real good._"

"The only thing that can wake him up _real good_ is Nanao," Shuuhei drawled.

"Trust me, this is much better."

"You're just upset because he won."

"Am not!"

"She is," Shuuhei told Izuru.

Rangiku huffed. "Fine. If you don't want to see Kyouraku-taichou running around like a chicken on fire..."

That got their attention.

She smiled. "Follow me."

They made their way through the quiet division. Everyone was sleeping deeply that night -most likely because of the rigorous monthly division training they went through just a few hours ago. Rangiku led them past the captain's quarters and the gardens. Soon, they arrived at the barracks. Shuuhei and Rangiku had to refrain Izuru from disturbing a sleepwalking woman headed for the kitchen.

"Where are you taking us?" Ikkaku complained.

"Shut up and keep walking!"

"We would have been in the Eighth by now if –"

"YAAAHHH!"

They froze. Shunsui looked up from Ikkaku's shoulder, alert, serious, and drool-free.

"HELP!"

Rangiku sprinted full-speed, the others following one pace behind. She passed a few bleary-eyed seated shinigami that peered out of their respective rooms in alarm. She skidded around a corner and crashed into a sobbing, panic-stricken woman.

"Miyamoto!" Rangiku steadied the fourth-seat. "What is it?"

Akane Miyamoto blinked tears from her eyes, then shakily pointed at a room with a half-open door. "He –he –taichou –" Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she crumpled to the floor. Yumichika caught the fainted shinigami and checked for a pulse.

Shunsui strode towards the door and slammed it open.

Just in time to see Toushirou Hitsugaya slide off a glinting, sliver blade.

The fukutaichou's limp body collapsed to the floor. Crimson liquid erupted from the wound in his chest and painted the wood with dark red.

Rangiku pushed the shaken Shunsui aside and gasped in horror. "Fukutaichou!" She rushed to Toushirou's body and ripped off her left sleeve. She pressed the tattered cloth on the wound, trying to stop the blood flow. "Izuru! Izuru!"

"Show yourself!" Shunsui had his twin zanpakutou out and pointed at the shadows. A dark figure shifted, and the blade –was that a zanpakutou? –receded.

Izuru and Shuuhei rushed inside, all signs of intoxication wiped from their faces. They knelt beside the frantic third-seat and Izuru calmly lifted her hands off the bloody cloth. He fixed it properly over the wound and told her to get more cloth. She ripped off her other sleeve and positioned it over the blood-soaked one. "Izuru..."

"Keep pressing." He raised his voice, and his hands glowed green. "Shuuhei, send a hell butterfly to the Fourth!" He placed both his hands over Toushirou's chest and began the healing process. Shuuhei scrambled to his feet and left to find the hell butterflies' cages.

"I said show yourself!" Shunsui barked.

"... Shunsui?" A tall, muscular man emerged from the corner, rubbing his eyes. "What's –"

"Bakudou number 63: Sajou Sabaku!"

Yellow ropes of light entangled the man's arms. The man let out a small groan, tested the binding spell, then asked, "What's going on?"

"I should be asking _you_ that." Shunsui pointed at the bloody child lying on the floor. "What the hell, Isshin?"

Isshin Kurosaki, taichou of the Tenth Division, stared uncomprehendingly at the body. "What?" His hands were slippery with sweat... No, it wasn't sweat. It was too thick and too substantial. It was then he realized that his right hand was holding his zanpakutou –and it was drenched in blood. His fukutaichou's blood.

Ikkaku crashed into the room and wildly took in the room and its occupants. Yumichika followed more cautiously, still unhappily carrying Miyamoto.

"Why do I always end up carrying –" Yumichika cut himself off. He gazed at the scene before him and shook his head. "Oh dear, this isn't very beautiful."

Ikkaku fixed his eyes on Isshin. "What, he did this?"

"I... I did this?" Isshin looked dazed. "But... I –I thought he –"

"A traitor, eh?" The Eleventh Division's third-seat drew his zanpakutou and settled into a steady fighting stance. "Going to try to escape?"

Isshin tried to break out of the Kidou spell. "I'm not –"

"Don't even think about it." Yumichika had settled his load on the floor and joined Ikkaku, pointing his weapon at the taichou. "Move one more muscle and we'll slit your throat –beautifully, of course."

Shuuhei and Renji burst into the room, followed by Retsu Unohana and haggard-looking Isane Kotetsu. "He's here!"

"Step aside, Kira, Matsumoto," Unohana ordered. She knelt down beside the fallen shinigami and said, "Isane, my zanpakutou. Kira-fukutaichou, Hisagi-fukutaichou, please bring Hitsugaya-fukutaichou and Fourth-seat Miyamoto outside. Now."

Izuru and Shuuhei gingerly carried Toushirou and Miyamoto outside as Isane handed the zanpakuto to Unohana. The Fourth Division taichou released her zanpakutou. The blade morphed, turning into gas before taking on the solid shape of a green, one-eyed manta ray that was her shikai. At Unohana's command, the manta ray swallowed Toushirou, letting the healing acid inside its stomach to soak the two unconscious shinigami. Unohana told everyone to get on her shikai's back, including the ensnared Isshin Kurosaki.

Once they were all in the air, Unohana asked Shunsui what happened. He told her how they heard Miyamoto's scream, Toushirou's body, and Isshin's bloody blade.

Isshin sat there, unable to move, listening to Shunsui's explanation with growing horror. He attempted to speak, but Ikkaku and Yumichika silenced him with their zanpakutou.

"Save it for later," Ikkaku murmured.

"But... I..." He looked crestfallen. "I thought...He..."

Shunsui finished retelling his account. He looked at the gathered shinigami on the back of a giant manta ray and asked, "Anyone want to add anything?"

They all shook their heads.

"I see," Unohana said softly.

Rangiku cleared her throat. "Excuse me." Her voice sounded scratchy. "Does this mean... Is taichou getting arrested?"

Shunsui looked at the trapped taichou. "It's not looking good for him, I have to admit. Oh, look, there's the Fourth."

Minazuki landed in the grassy courtyard specifically designed for her use deep in the Fourth Division. A pair of healers rushed to the manta ray as it discharged the two shinigami hidden in its stomach. They were both covered in ooze, but Toushirou's wound was already looking better, and color was starting to return to Miyamoto's skin. The healers rested them on stretchers and hurried to an empty room to be treated.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you here," Unohana said. "Please inform Yamamoto-soutaichou of what happened." She left with her fukutaichou following behind.

The group of shinigami stared at each other. Fifteen minutes ago, they were returning to their divisions after a night of drinking. Now, they stood in the middle of the Fourth Division, having just watched two of their comrades get carried away in stretchers.

"Well." Shunsui tilted his hat to Isshin and dragged him away. "I better bring you to Yama-jii. I have a feeling things are about to get complicated."

"Yeah," Renji mumbled, "better tell Kuchiki-taichou." His tone of voice told everyone that he was _not_ looking forward to this.

Rangiku just left, saying nothing as her treacherous thoughts spun around in her head, mocking her with what might happen to her taichou if this got serious. _Prison... Exile... Execution..._

Ikkaku and Yumichika looked at each other before walking away to their own division. They had better tell Yachiru what happened. She happened to like the white-haired fukutaichou a lot –maybe because he was the only other child shinigami in the Seireitei.

Shuuhei and Izuru accompanied each other to the Fourth Division's gates before going their separate ways.

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_**Phase One: Complete.**_

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**Reviews motivate me greatly.**_**  
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